Roswell’s Marie Manning jamming outside the Unity Center.

Katy Perrys “I Kissed A Girl”

Come see me Marie.

I have wanted to get abducted for years. I have still not seen a green or grey creature on a ship loaded with flashing lights. I am waiting for my alien probe and I don’t mean being raped by an illegal.

It seems the Byrds wanted the abduction experience way back in the ’60’s. Here they are on the Smothers Brothers show with “Mr. Spaceman”.

Now I am off to get pics and the inside story of the festival. I’ll have them up tonite and will continue covering the festival all weekend.

Have a pleasant Independence Day and don’t forget the kids serving in Afghanistan and Iraq.

I was writing a post Tuesday evening. Something about the Obama lead over Clinton and how the Paul/Huckabee campaigns were slowing the McCain…well you have read everyone else’s opinion of the old news so I’ll just piss and moan about why I have been off line.

While writing my post my hosts server crashed. It was down both Tuesday and Wednesday. When they got the whole thing back up there were errors of some kind messing up the links from server to web page….then when I was online chatting with my hosts techs my internet provider crashed.

I have been out of touch for days but I wasn’t raided or shut down as was suggested by one reader. I just had some bad luck. The upside is that I get a month of hosting at no charge. Thats cool.

It’s a good night and we are expecting snow tonight in Roswell. Probably wont last very long as it is supposed to get warm tomorrow afternoon. I will be back up to posting stuff tomorrow. (saturday)

I hope your weekend is great.

Daytona 500 Sunday for those who like to watch 43 drivers go fast and turn left.

Until last night I doubted that I would ever see an extra terrestrial craft. I never doubted they were there and when I was driving trucks I saw flying lights in the distance and imagined they were UFO’s but because of last night I know.
Not being able to sleep I bundled up and went to Dennys. After drinking about 3 cups of mud I decided to take a walk. The conversation was uninspiring and the wind had died down so I decided my own thoughts would be better than the oldsters at Denny’s counter.
Walking east on 23rd I quickly got into the neighborhood that has warehouses and is totally uninhabited by man at night. I figured my walk was about half over so I sat on a brick wall that used to hold a sign of some type. Lighting the joint I was carrying I looked around at my surroundings.
An abandoned building sat a ways back from the street across a gravel parking area overgrown with brush and leaves. Broken liquor bottles and used condoms were scattered in with the paper litter that had blown in on the wind. Everything was quiet but I could see the occasional car on Country Club Road. My view down 23rd ended at the dead end a couple hundred yards to the east. I could see clear to Main street looking west and knew I could eat the joint before anyone could reach me in a car. Smoking in public, even at 3:30 A.M. in a small town like Roswell, makes me cautious so I pre-plan. Nothing I had ever planned for prepared me for the rest of the night.
Suddenly the big doors on the warehouse behind me flew open and I was bathed in a weird greenish blue light. Despite the initial scare of the doors banging open I was instantly covered with a sense of peace. I felt no threat and slowly turned to see what was going on in the warehouse. Two men were approaching me.
As their outlines became filled with features I stood getting ready to explain what I was doing there. The biggest guy spoke with a heavy accent. Asking if he could get a hit of my weed they both smiled. It hadn’t occurred to me to ditch the roach when they arrived so I offered it to him. When I asked what they were working on in there They invited me to come take a look. Inside we all went.
In the center of the floor stood a weird looking van. Somewhat resembling an old 60’s style VW bus it was longer and rounded on both ends. I figured these freaks were building a float for some parade here. Thanksgiving and Christmas parades aren’t about UFO’s…but this IS Roswell.I didn’t see any wheels so I guessed it would be pulled on a trailer.
Then, to my great surprise I realized that nothing was holding it up. It was suspended in a pool of that same green/blue glow that had flooded the parking lot. This was cool. I hoped to learn more and said so.
They said they would show me how it worked because without a degree in astrophysics I’d never understand.
The door slid back and we got inside. Although cramped it was comfortable.We sat down and the short guy handed me back my roach. Its good schwag and we all had a little buzz.
“A friend of mine grows this shit back home” he said pulling a little cigarette case out of his coveralls.
I lit the proffered joint and immediately started choking.
“Lets ride to the club.”, he said to his buddy.
” K “, was the answer.
Suddenly, not in any way jolting or fast, just suddenly, we were above Roswell. I can tell it was Roswell because the “skyline” is easy to spot if you’ve ever come into town at night. Then the only light that we saw was the green/blue glow. Still that easy, calm feeling. No worries about abduction, where we were headed or anything. The weed he had offered was the best I’ve ever smoked and I quit after 3 or 4 puffs. Suddenly lights were below us and they formed a city quickly. A city I thought I recognized from the road patterns. A big city, not a town like we left only a few seconds ago.
Damn! That interstate system looks like Oklahoma City! How did we get here in seconds? Or was I so stoned I thought it was a short time? Would clubs be open in Okie City at this time?
We arrived at the “Club” where a covered parking area was filled with vehicles similar to the one we were in. When the door opened I couldn’t walk well and ambled stonededly (is that a word?) into the building with them.
.There were men of all races in the club but no women.
“Great”, I thought. No chicks. A gay bar for sure. A guy in a business suit asked me if I wanted a drink. Not really so I asked for a Coke. Fuckin’ Okie’s cant make decent coffee but Coke is the same all across the country.
I saw a door on the far side of the room. The sign said “PROBING ROOM”. many people stood in line waiting while others came out of the door with a satisfied look on their faces.
Then it hit me!! Aliens really did inhabit the earth. They even had their own social clubs. The rumors and actual accounts you hear so much about are true! The abductions and probes aren’t bullshit.
It really goes on.
I walked around and found the guys I had come with. I told them I understood everything.
The big guy asked me to look in his eyes and think the truth I had come to in my mind. If it were right I’d be returned immediately to Roswell. If I was wrong I’d have to become the probee in the Probe Room.
I looked into his eyes and sent a thought to him.
I was sitting on the brick wall on 23rd finishing the joint and getting ready to smoke that menthol before I walked home.
I realized I knew the secret of aliens. I had known and when I sent the telepathic message to my host he kept his promise.
Although they didn’t tell me not to say what I learned I still feel funny telling anyone.
Just don’t tell anybody it was me who told you.
Aliens can take the shape of humans or already look like us anyhow. All of them are male and reproduction is a man thing.
One more thing I saw at the club. Posters for upcoming alien events were all over the place. The Roswell event for the July 4 anniversary celebration will be attended by space men. They come for the party every year
No wonder the government silenced the knowledge about the 1947 crash outside of Roswell.
Don’t ask. Don’t tell.

Barely Political aired this report about the 2008 elections.

Special thanx to MAHAKALA

If you have read this before…gee…you really get around.
Sale days at the Roswell stockyards are held twice a week on Tuesday and Saturday. Ranchers from all around bring their cattle and sheep in on the night before. Lots of noise downtown on those nights. Trucks roaring, cowhands yelling and livestock bellowing in protest can be heard all around downtown. The cacaphony of money.

Walking at night is one of my favorite things. I’ll walk even when offered a ride most of the time. I would rather walk than drive and driving is my passion. Roswell is a fantastic place to live when it comes to walking.
The days are usually warm and while the nights get cool I just bundle up and go. I go to the store, pay my bills or just stroll for that elusive “alone time”.
The other night I went to slip my rent into the mail slot at my landlords office. It was late and the only traffic that was out were the marked cop cars. And very few of them.

I probably saw the same one over and over. A scruffy looking guy like me draws their attention so they keep a good eye on me both directions on Main St. Probably keeps me out of trouble as their presence keeps the wierdo’s from buggin’ me.
Monday nights aren’t too busy in Roswell and downtown is deserted except for the sleeping homeless folks and a rare car headed home from the bar or McDonalds. I usually take a small joint to smoke before I head home. The walk downtown sometimes makes the pain greater. Sitting on Main Street is safe because I could swallow what I have before they could stop their car. This night I walked to the plaza across from the courthouse. Looking at the statue of John Chisolm (of the infamous Chisolm Trail) and his horse I figgered that with his protection I could get by without being noticed. I fired the joint up and sat on the wall under the statue..
The sculpture is great. The detail is so fine I could almost feel the heat from the horses nostrils while the commanding look in John’s eyes burned through me. Since he died 50 plus years before our government made a plant illegal he wasn’t judging my actions, just watching me. Judging my character and strength. Seeing that my attitude was something he could work with.
Sitting, smoking and daydreaming I suddenly became aware of sound of cattle bawling. The sounds of many hooves pounding the ground came at me faster than I could expect. Cows weren’t supposed to be on Main Street. The sale barn is way over on Garden. But sure enough there they were coming from the south. Rumbling up the narrow dirt road.
Wait!! Main street is 5 lanes wide plus a parking lane on both sides.
The buildings and the courthouse were gone. I could see the small shops and modest houses all around me and nothing was familiar.
Ragged looking cowboys riding tired looking horses of all colors were leading the way. The herd of about 300 head of cattle were being driven up the trail by quite a few of these guys. Their yelps blended with all of the other sounds. I wondered why the drive would be happening so late. A voice answered my question.
“Lookin’ for a job?”
I looked around and saw Mr. Chisolm himself.
“The cook quit in Artesia.” he said. If you can cook my men are hungry. They wont stop til its suppertime and I need somebody to feed ‘em.”
“Where’s the chuck wagon?” I asked.
He pointed to a small wagon being drawn by a couple of mules.I headed over. He called out and the cowhands started getting the cattle settled down. The watering pond was a few hundred yards up the trail.
I climbed inside and in the dim light started cooking. A huge wood stove was blazing and the meat was already prepared for cooking. Bags of potatoes and onions were in one corner. Flour and other ingredients were in small barrells and beans were boiling on the stove. I started making a meal these guys would enjoy before their well needed nap.
I made tortillias. Spicing and simmering a huge pot of meat I wondered how I would serve this concoction without a decent salsa. There werent any tomatos or chili’s on board but the shopkeeper from the grocery store brought out a few jars he had in the back room.

Out side the cowboys were settling in around a fire. The food was ready to be served and Mr. Chisolm helped me carry it out. I looked at the salsa jars before I carried them out. It came from San Antonio. What a relief. We’ve all seen the Pace commercials.
Every one ate a bunch commenting on the FACT that I know how to put a good feed out.There was some wine in an old box and the bottles started going around.A deck of cards came out and soon I was in a game being played with unfamiliar coins. I had gotten some of the old money somehow.We played a few hands then a few girls came from the hotel and the party really started. I grabbed my old guitar and started singing ballads I’ve grown fond of. “El Paso by Marty Robbins, some Hank Snow and of course The Grateful Dead. All were appropriate to the situation.
I strummed a few notes of “Jack Straw” and started singing.
“We can share the women. We can share the wine. We can share what we got of yours ’cause we done shared all of mine…”
The sound of a slowing patrol car brought me forward 150 years and I was both happy and disappointed. The cop recognized me and waved.
John Chisolm stared at us blankly.
The cowboys were gone.
I’m sure they made it to Santa Fe.

Undressing for bed a couple of hours later I found some old coins spilling from my pockets. Lots of them. I had won, obviously.
I went home with everything.

Title and lyrics used are from “Jack Straw” , Robert Hunter and Bob Weir. 1971